The music, if you think about it is the only one of the ancient arts that acts on a different dimension, not space, music is above all time. The paintings and statues, museums are covered with dust: they are dead, permanently. The viewer passes in front of bored hours hours thrilled, but the work does not react: a corpse. And the author can hardly be seen: You have a nice business to imagine the state of mind. Before the Impressionists was almost impossible, Unless a Fra 'Galgario or a few others.
But music (and music mean the music, not Alex Britti or Tatangelo) is alive. The mysterious author has stretched out the time on paper, the new decoder decrypts and resurrected, and with it resurrects the composer: it is a liturgy of time where the musician is true priest, the deity revered composer, the notes are smoke of incense. Time is the present time, the time in which we live, our time: the music through it, through it, through us, while we breathe and blink. One can only shudder when we think that this has been humming the same tune ... nothing less than three centuries ago by Handel, Bach and Telemann; was in their heads as now passes in ours, note for note, arpeggio after arpeggio, trill trill after ... happily rang in the ears of the Prince Elector of Saxony, King of Prussia, and who knows who, ordinary people who went to Mass on Sunday and heard a Bach cantata - for free and directed by him. It will never be realized? This spell becomes encased in a sheet time, thanks to the movement - which to see live music played really know the magic-liturgical, a musician. Never seen a cellist move your hands on the strings with the speed that amazing? Or a body to move both hands simultaneously on two different keyboards and foot pedals on the whole? I can only feel true admiration and envy for them! It is said that Bach could play the pedal body (ie the keyboard that is played with feet) items that are difficult to play with his hands on the keyboard seems to be saying: it is not difficult, just press the button to its right time.
The wise know the art of composition lead to artificially sentimental targeted effects: the Chaconne in F minor for organ by Johann Pachelbel (1653-1706), which is incidentally my favorite song, focuses on so-called descending minor tetrachord which had become refined tool to express "painful affects" crying, lamentation, and melancholy. The effect is very successful, because the piece, such as the Chaconne in D minor (which shows the talent of Pachelbel for the forms to change), which has a dramatic difficult to express in words, and it is this continual sigh of organ pipes that makes it so beautiful and intense two tracks at the same time suffering with dignity and solemnly measured. A person in love melts on it as on some tunes Orfeo by Monteverdi (1567-1643). J. Pachelbel published a book that contains this song, Musikalische Sterbensgedanken (Musical Thoughts on Death, and already the idea of \u200b\u200bmusic is sublime thoughts) after the painful separation from his wife and son due to a plague. The same may hold true for the power expression of Mozart's Requiem (1756-1791) and Music on the Death of Queen Mary H. Purcell (1659-1695), which the composer wrote for the Regina 36 year old just English, but probably thought to himself (he died in November 1695).
Finally, today we take a CD off the shelf and listen to him many times as you want, even while we are stretching or studying, while we have dinner gallantly, while we're jogging, during the "vile ritual" (if someone takes the music in the toilet). I do not want to talk about the respect due to some music, after all the fame also brings to this and not entirely unfairly. We have TV, internet, mp3 player, and once people came to Vespers in the evening, there was about three hours, but had no other show. In the past people probably hear some music once in a lifetime.
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